Four Times
by gbbluemonday
Summary: Three times Sarah watches Chuck die, and one time she doesn't.
1. Chapter 1

1.

"You can't keep doing these things, Chuck!"

Sarah Walker's face is red as she turns around in the seat, her hair clinging to the sweat on her forehead. She is breathless from running from the Fulcrum agents who, moments before, had been spraying the air around them with bullets. Casey is in the driver's seat now, driving with one hand and clutching his arm with the other, a small amount of blood trickling through his fingers where a bullet grazed his skin. His teeth are gritted in pain and anger. He seems too mad to shout, so Sarah does it for him.

"We told you to stay in the car!" she says to Chuck, who is staring at her with an indescribably hurt look on his face, slumped against the door. "You could have gotten yourself killed, you could have gotten Casey killed! Those men were Fulcrum, Chuck!"

"They were torturing you," Chuck says quietly. "I couldn't just leave you."

"Yes, you could!" Sarah says. "Chuck, your job is not to protect us, it's the other way around! If they had tortured you, the safety of the entire country—no, the safety of the entire world—would have been compromised! How long is it going to take to get that through your head?"

Chuck shrinks visibly at the bite in her voice, curling almost into a fetal position, and Sarah feels an unwanted pang of guilt in her stomach. Poor Chuck probably doesn't deserve her anger—after all, all he knows is to protect the people he…loves, and that was all he did tonight. But if he doesn't hear this from someone he trusts, he'll never learn. If there's one thing Sarah knows, it's tough love, courtesy of the CIA. So she bites her lip until the snarl on her face returns.

"And now," she continues, "Casey was shot, we were all nearly killed, and they know that we're after the chip! And all because you couldn't be mature for once and do what we told you!"

"Idiot," Casey mutters under his breath.

Chuck whimpers, and for a moment Sarah thinks that he is hugging his stomach like that out of shame, that her shouting was so cutting that it hurt him physically. Then she reaches for the light switch.

Red, shiny and dark, is spreading from the center of Chuck's midsection, staining the soaked white Nerd Herd shirt. Chuck is pale and trembling all over, making a small, high-pitched noise every time his hands tighten over the wound. Sarah feels like she has just fallen out of her own body, like she has swallowed mercury.

"Stop the car!" she shrieks, already clambering over the seat to get to Chuck.

As soon as Casey catches on to what has happened, he swings the Crown Vic onto the curb in a spray of gravel and a grunt. Sarah vaguely hears him calling it in, man down, man down, but she is focused on Chuck, who is so pale he might be translucent. She pries at his hands, tightly clamped over his bloody shirt.

"Let me see, Chuck," she says. "Let go, I have to help you."

"Ellie…," Chuck says.

"No, Chuck, you're going to be fine!" she shouts. "Casey! I need help!"

Casey has already found his way around the side of the car, and wrenches the door open. Sarah repositions herself so that she can help him pull Chuck out of the car and into the pouring rain, where they can lay him flat and try to stop the bleeding. Chuck keeps his hands tightly balled over the wound, even when Casey, with unusual sensitivity, tries to pull them away. Sarah is at his side in an instant.

"Chuck…."

Chuck says nothing—his jaw is clamped shut, either out of pain or fear. He simply looks up at her, his eyes already appearing sunken due to the blood loss. The emotions Sarah sees there are rending her into a thousand pieces.

"Don't you dare," she says, and she realizes she is sobbing.

At long last, Chuck reaches up, his fist covered in blood, and gently nudges her arm. _Hold your hand out_.

Robotically, tears mixing with the rain on her face, Sarah does. Into her open palm, Chuck drops the tiny Fulcrum chip.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Chuck is laughing, sharing a slice of pizza with Sarah and listening to Morgan tell an awful joke while Ellie and Devon steal a kiss in the background.

Sarah already knows that she is going to miss these triple dates as soon as Morgan and Anna are in Hawaii, because secretly she's always thought of both of them as real friends—the same way she secretly thinks of Chuck as more than just an asset, especially since their little adventure going AWOL. Ellie and Devon had just returned from their honeymoon two days before, and are too blissful in the early days of their marriage to care much what Morgan do or say. Anna is laughing too loudly at Morgan's jokes, obviously so thrilled at the prospect of leaving Burbank that she is oblivious to her boyfriend's lack of comedic talent.

Sarah is also ignoring Morgan, but unlike her companions, she is not preoccupied with happier things. Two weeks have passed since Chuck downloaded the new Intersect, and despite his outward composure, Sarah has the feeling that Chuck was once again hiding his anguish for the sake of others. The—well, _upgrade_ is the only word for it—had been exciting at first, but she is beginning to think she had been wrong in what she had said to Chuck earlier: maybe he really _wasn't_ cut out for the spy business. Although they had only been on two missions since the upload (two missions in which Chuck had amazed not only her and Casey, but every one of the Ring agents he had knocked unconscious), Chuck already seemed exhausted. He was frowning more, smiling less, and he was _pale_…even for someone who never set foot outside when he could help it.

Even now, as he laughed and joked with his best friend, Sarah could tell it was forced, that he was thinking about other things, things bigger than most of the people in the room could comprehend.

Worst of all, he wouldn't talk to the only person there who might have been able to help.

"And then, Captain Kirk asks Spock to go check on the deck, but of course Spock doesn't—"

Sarah stands abruptly, suddenly unable to stand the cheerfulness pervading everything in the room except Chuck. Everyone looks around at her.

"Are you okay?" Ellie asks.

"Fine," Sarah says. "Sorry, I just have to go to the restroom."

Chuck looks up at her with tired eyes, and for a moment, Sarah thinks he is going to tell her what has been going on in his head, thinks he has caught her hint and is going to follow her to where they can talk in private, but the next second, he smiles at her, turning back to his pizza. "Don't be too long," he says, "the pizza will get cold."

Sarah smiles back, her stomach churning. When did she become the one who was shunned when the truth was called for? As she heads for the bathroom, she hears Morgan say, "Man, she should really do something about that spastic colon."

A minute later, as Sarah is washing her hands, she hears a crash, followed by Anna's shriek.

Sarah runs down the hall, hand on the gun at her hip, and bursts around the corner, only to see no intruder, just Ellie and Devon crouching on the floor while Morgan and Anna, clutching each other, watch from behind the couch. At first Sarah thinks they are cleaning up a broken dish, but as she draws closer, she sees that it is Chuck, and he has fallen out of his seat and is lying on the floor, shaking violently. His eyes are wide open as he quakes, and blood is streaming from his nose and ears. Devon violently shoves the coffee table out of the way to prevent Chuck from hitting his head while Ellie tries to roll him onto his side to prevent him from choking on his own sputum.

"Sarah, call an ambulance!" Ellie shouts, her voice gratingly high-pitched. "Sarah, please! He's having a seizure!"

Somewhere in the depths of her mind, Sarah's CIA self says calmly, _Thank you, I can see that_. In reality, Sarah's fingers are trembling as she dials the number.

________________________________________________________________________

Sarah sits slightly apart from Morgan and Anna at the hospital, next to Casey, who found as excuse to come to the hospital when it was discovered that Devon had locked his keys in his car. Devon himself had gone ahead in the ambulance with an unconscious Chuck. Ellie, not allowed into the room where they were working on Chuck, is pacing in front of them, biting her nails.

Anna is holding Morgan's hand, and Sarah catches herself staring at them more than once. Casey is sending a steady stream of updates in the form of text messages to the General.

After the first seizure, while they were still waiting for the ambulance, Chuck had regained consciousness briefly, and it is that moment which Sarah focuses on now.

His eyes had fluttered open after shutting briefly, and Ellie, seeing this, had slowly released the grip she had on his arms while Devon released his legs. Sarah scooted aside as Ellie moved urgently into Chuck's line of sight.

"Chuck? Sweetie? Can you hear me?"

Chuck nodded, wincing. "What…happened?" he sighed.

"You had a seizure." Ellie was back in sister mode, her voice tearful. "We called an ambulance, we're taking you to the hospital. You're going to be just fine."

Chuck's nose was still bleeding sluggishly, staining his face red. Ellie was holding her brother's hand.

"I'll get something to clean him up," Sarah said, making to stand.

"No."

A hand, warm and big, pulls her back to the ground.

"I need to talk to you," Chuck said.

"I'll get it," Ellie said, standing. "The ambulance is almost here, Chuck, don't be scared."

As Ellie disappeared into the kitchen, Sarah leaned close to Chuck's face, close enough to feel his soft breath against her cheek.

"It's okay," he said. "I knew this was coming. It's okay, Sarah."

"What are you—"

"The Intersect…not tested for this…me. I knew…_It_ told me this would happen. It's okay. Listen. I'm sorry I never got…to…love…."

But the rest of his sentence was cut off as another seizure wracked his body, and Sarah was pushed aside as Ellie and Devon once again seized Chuck's flailing limbs.

And those last words Chuck spoke to her are playing over and over again in Sarah's head as Devon walks into the waiting room, his eyes red. They are playing in her head as Devon says something to Ellie and she collapses in his arms, and they are the only reason Sarah does not fall to the floor herself.


	3. Chapter 3 Part 1

3.

"Well, all things considered I'd say that went pretty well," Chuck says as they enter into the courtyard, dripping water and mud onto the pavement. "I mean, granted, there were significant losses of…ahem…some amenities, but no one was seriously hurt."

Casey, who is bringing up the rear, looks as if he wishes_ someone_ were seriously injured. He alone caught much of the blast when the Ring building was detonated, and is completely covered in soot, his hair smoking. He growls at Chuck menacingly, and Chuck grins in defense, backing away.

"Look on the bright side," says Chuck. "We got the plans!"

He holds up the necklace, a round black pendant on which the layouts of several secret Ring bases are contained. Casey snatches it as Sarah joins them, wringing gasoline and water out of her hair.

"You're lucky you saved our necks tonight," says Casey, "or I'd break yours."

Chuck laughs nervously. "Don't thank me," he says. "Thank the Intersect."

"I wasn't thanking either!"

"I think we all need some time to cool down," says Sarah, stepping between Chuck and Casey. In earlier days she would have been more worried for Chuck, but now she's not entirely sure who she's protecting—the Intersect could start up at any moment if Chuck is engaged, and then he has little control over it.

"Chuck, go get cleaned up," she orders, "before Ellie sees you like that. We have to get this to Castle anyway, and debrief the General. Get some rest—you're going to be sore in the morning."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Chuck says, still backing away from Casey's glare. "I'll just get some sleep. Rest the old noggin. Have a good time—you know…debriefing. Casey, sorry about the—"

But seeing Casey's sneer, Chuck finishes his sentence by indicating the top of his head, turning, and half-jogging, half-tripping toward his apartment. Sarah has to suppress a smile; these glimpses of the Chuck who actually needed their protection are becoming less and less frequent.

"Come on, Casey, let's go."

Casey throws another glare over his shoulder at Chuck's retreating back, then allows Sarah to pull him around and out of the courtyard.

The Crown Victoria has taken another beating, so they take Sarah's car this time, while Casey bemoans all of the work he's going to have to put into this, his only surviving car. He doubts he'll be able to find another if this one gets blown up—or so he laments.

"Here," says Sarah, throwing a package of moist towlettes at Casey, "make yourself presentable."

Casey raises an eyebrow at Sarah, holding up the package. "You have _baby wipes_ in your car, Walker?"

"Yeah, well, I find that there are often babies in my car who need cleaning up," she says, not taking her eyes off of the road. "If you don't like it, don't take it."

Casey grunts and takes one of the wipes.

"You shouldn't be so hard on him all of the time," Sarah says a few minutes later, as they climb out of the car at the Orange Orange. "This has been hard enough, you know, with the New Intersect. Chuck doesn't need any unnecessary stress right now."

"I'll keep that in mind next time the kid wants to blow up a building," says Casey, holding the door open for her. "I'll just let him go ahead—that way he won't feel bad about it afterward." He growls at her as she breezes past him and into the freezer.

"I only mean," she says, matching his disdain, "that you don't need to make him feel like crap every time he does something wrong. He's not used to the new flashes. Before, he didn't have control of his mind. Now he doesn't have control of anything." She types in the code on the keypad, allows her fingers to linger long enough for print recognition.

As they head down into the bunker, Casey says, "You think I was yelling at him because he did something _wrong_?"

Sarah pauses on the stairs, looking around at Casey.

"Then…why were you yelling? I've never seen you get mad for nothing, Casey. I've seen you get mad for some pretty stupid things, but—"

"Bartowski needs to understand that he's not doing things wrong," Casey barks. "He needs to understand that he's not a loser from the Buy More anymore. The only thing that's preventing that kid from being great now is himself, Walker. I'm not going to let him get hurt because he doesn't _think_ he can do something of which he is perfectly capable."

Sarah stares at Casey for a moment, and then feels a smile begin to creep onto her lips. "Casey," she says, "you're really starting to care about him, aren't you?"

Casey sneers at her. "I care about my country," he says. "Bartowski just happens to be an important part of my country's security."

And he pushes past her into the bunker.

Casey goes to deposit the necklace in a safe box while Sarah checks the monitors. She checks the Orange Orange first, making sure no one saw them enter so late at night, then moves on to Chuck's house. Everything appears quiet. The lights are out and the house seems empty, save for its three occupants, all of whom are already in bed. Sarah watches the slow, soft up and down movement of Chuck's chest for a moment before turning away from the monitor, ready to debrief the General. Casey returns just as Beckman, yawning, her hair not as slick as usual, seats herself in front of the monitor.

"Colonel Casey," she says, "Agent Walker. I trust everything went according to plan?"

Sarah purses her lips, the way she does when she is lying to Chuck, and says, "Well, we retrieved the layout plans, General."

"And destroyed several buildings in the process?"

Casey and Sarah exchange glances. Never assume the General is ignorant.

The General sighed. "You took down several major factions of the organization calling itself the Ring today, agents, you should be proud of yourselves. The layouts are safe, I trust."

"Just secured them, General," says Casey, straightening.

"Good." Beckman sighs. "Well, if that's done, what say we leave the details for the morning? You two are a mess."

"Thank you General," says Sarah.

"Is the asset as…dirty as the two of you?"

"Chuck is already at home, asleep," Sarah assures, while Casey looks sour. "He managed to avoid any damage."

For a moment, Sarah thinks she sees something flicker in the General's face, but the next second she is sure she imagined it.

"Very well," says Beckman. "We'll continue this in the morning. Good night, Walker. Casey."

The screen goes black.

Sarah runs her fingers through her damp hair, relaxing her stiff muscles. She is going to be sore tomorrow, she can tell, and she is eager for the sleep that will be her only respite from the aches for several days. But first, she thinks, a shower. She can still smell the gasoline in her hair and on her hands, a sickly sweet smell she has never liked.

"Want me to drive you home, or are you going to analyze the plans?"

Casey doesn't answer. Sarah turns around to see him examining the monitors that show all angles of Chuck's house, his eyes narrowed. He is leaning in toward the image of Chuck sleeping, so close his nose is almost touching the monitor.

"You do know you can't actually stare daggers at him," she says. "At least not from here."

"Look at that pajama top," Casey says.

"He's allowed to have ridiculous pajamas, Casey."

"No," says Casey. "They look familiar. Aren't those the ones he was wearing when we pulled him out to the docks a week ago?"

Sarah is about to comment on Casey's creepy amount of attention paid to detail, but just then she realizes the significance of what Casey is saying. That pajama top had been torn clean off when a man grabbed Chuck from behind and, in a desperate attempt to escape, he had shed the garment. Sarah could still picture Chuck shivering in the cold, remembered wrapping her arms around him to protect him against the night.

"Maybe he bought another one," she says quietly. "He loved those pajamas."

"Check the other monitors," Casey says.

Sarah complies; she already knows what he is looking for, what he expects to see, and she holds her breath as she watches the empty living room. When she sees it, her heat feels like it's turned to lead.

"There," she whispers. "A flicker."

Casey yells and pounds his fist into the countertop. "It's playing in a loop!" he shouts. "God damn it!"

Sarah is frozen with fear, watching blankly as Casey dives underneath the table, pulling at wires. She cannot think, even when he finds what he is looking for: a black wire, not one of theirs, feeding into a snipped red wire. Casey untwists the tangled copper, fumbling as he reconnects the correct cameras.

Only when the correct pictures flicker onto the screen, when Sarah sees that both beds in the Bartowski home are empty, and that there is a figure lying prone on the floor in the living room, unmoving, only then does she find the strength to unfreeze her frozen body.


	4. Chapter 3 Part 2

Chuck slides into the house as quietly as he can, not wanting to wake Ellie (Devon is on call tonight). He locks the door, then sidles over to the window, watching Casey and Sarah exit the courtyard. When they are gone, he lets his face relax, crashing into the look of exhaustion and worry he has been covering all day. Every bit of him aches—though the new Intersect teaches him the moves he needs to _seem_ like an agent, it does not make his body any more like Casey's or Sarah's. He's become more flexible by necessity over the past few weeks, but he has yet to come home and not be in agony after any mission thus far.

Bearing this in mind, Chuck makes his way to the kitchen, leaving the living room lights off, in search of Advil. As he reaches the first aid cabinet, he sees the slip of paper on the counter, a note hastily scrawled in Ellie's handwriting.

_Chuck—_

_Turn on news—some sort of explosion downtown. The ER needs extra hands, so I'll be gone till tomorrow. Food's in the fridge. Love you!_

_Ellie_

Chuck sighs, crumpling the note and tossing it in the trash. Now that he's sure he's alone, he turns on a few lights, downs four Advil, and heads for the couch, not sure he's going to make it to his room.

He makes it two steps onto the foyer before two bullets knock him off of his feet, send him sprawling onto his back.

It's that quick—Chuck has no time to see who shot him. His glass of water goes flying, shatters, and his head cracks against the wood floor. There is a patter of footsteps, a slam of a door, and he is alone.

There is no pain—at first. Chuck doesn't know he's been shot, except he can't _move_, and he can't hear anything because of how hard he hit his head. His arms are spread wide—he doesn't even think to move them to his stomach and chest, where a warm, wet sensation is spreading. He is more preoccupied with the buzzing in his head, the crackle in his head like electricity that tells him the Intersect is trying to flash. But nothing comes.

"Ellie." The word springs to his lips unbidden, the only thing he can think of. Vaguely he registers that something is wrong, but he is more concerned with the fact that he has gone limp than the reason. It takes him a moment to realize that Ellie is gone, and so if Devon. He is alone.

And suddenly, the fog lifts, and it is replaced by _pain_. He screams—thinks he does, but the noise is too soft to be heard by the neighbors. With tremendous effort, Chuck is able to lift his arms to his torso, and when he looks back at his hands, he bursts into tears at all of the blood.

He is going to die.

Where is Sarah?

Still crying, disoriented, in pain and bleeding, Chuck calls her name. "Sarah? Sarah? Sarah?"

And this is what the silence hears, until Chuck has bled so much that he can no longer remain conscious.

________________________________________________________________________

"Chuck?"

Sarah bursts through the locked door with a yell, her gun held high. Casey is not far behind her. Her heart is pumping gallons of adrenaline, so fierce she can barely see straight. But she knows where she is going, and she leads Casey to the living room without the usual hesitation to check blind spots, trusting that he will be clearheaded enough to do so for the both of them.

Sarah saw the dark figure on the monitor in Castle, but she is not prepared when she sees the body on the floor.

"Casey!" she shouts, dropping to her knees beside Chuck. "He's been shot!"

She presses her hands to his bloody shirt, but it is so soaked she can neither tell where the wounds are or how numerous they are. The pressure is enough to drag Chuck out of unconsciousness, however—he opens his eyes, gasping and choking.

Sarah is trained for this, and through the haze of panic, his coughing registers—pulmonary edema? Punctured lung? Collapsed lung? The terms run through her head, but she can't remember which symptoms fit which diagnosis, and in a panic, she does the first thing she can think of and pulls Chuck into a sitting position, cradling him into her chest. The coughing eases, and momentarily he is merely gasping, taking in deep breaths out of Sarah's warmth.

"I'll sweep the house," Casey says, and Sarah can see that he doesn't want her to see how pale he is. "I've called it in."

He exits, gun raised.

Sarah waits until Chuck is nearly able to breathe again before addressing him.

"Chuck?" She tries to keep the panic out of her voice. "Chuck, just nod if you can hear me."

A pause, and she feels his head shift against her skin.

"I need to move you so I can take care of you, okay? You're going to be just fine."

He nods again, and she shifts her weight under him, holding his head to her chest so that he does not lose the ability to breathe again. She shuffles around him awkwardly, holding his limp body up, her knees sliding in the blood on the floor. She can hear sirens in the distance.

She manages to get around him and pull him to the back of the couch, which she uses to prop him up. As soon as he no longer needs her support, she tears his shirt off. What she sees is greeted by a sharp intake of breath. Two wounds, chest, stomach, no exits, both bleeding sluggishly. One dangerously close to his heart. She swallows hard, takes off her jacket, and presses it against the wound, and looks at Chuck.

She is surprised to see that his eyes are open. He is staring at her, too exhausted to muster any fear. He is shivering.

"Hey," she says, smiling, "this doesn't look so bad. We're going to get you cleaned up, and then you're going to be just fine."

Still watching her, a single tear rolls down Chuck's cheek, splashing onto the bloody floor.

"You're going to be just fine."

________________________________________________________________________

Chuck doesn't survive the ride to the hospital. Sarah held his had the whole time they were loading the stretcher, not letting go even when they try to push her out of the ambulance. She was still holding his hand when the monitors the paramedics hooked to his body started going wild, and then she had to let go, because she was being pushed aside, while one of the paramedics screamed for an injection of adrenaline while another charged the paddles. She collapsed into a seat as the ambulance jolts, and watched dumbly as electricity charged through Chuck and made him jump off of the table once—twice—three times. Four, then five. Now she watches as, monitor still refusing to show anything but a straight, flat line, they unload the stretcher and wheel him into the ER.

Sarah stumbles out of the ambulance, her head reeling. Paramedics and panicked people are pushing her from all sides, but before she can follow Chuck into the ER, she has to duck out of the doorway and be sick all over the pavement. Then, gasping, she heads inside.

The ER is crowded tonight. She has lost Chuck in the chaos, and she needs to find him. She hardly notices the stares she draws as she makes her way to the nurse's station, or the way even the most frantic people part for her when she approaches.

"I need to find Charles Bartowski," she says.

The nurse gives her an appraising look, but doesn't stare. She typed the name into the computer, waits a moment, and says, "His file just came up. They're still working on him. I can call you when we know anything. Name?"

"Sarah Walker," Sarah says.

"All right, hon. Anything else you need?"

"Yes," she says. "Could you page Dr. Bartowski?"

Without waiting for an answer, Sarah turns and finds an open seat (though they are sparse), her legs no longer able to support her. She collapses into the chair, running her hands through her hair, keeping her head between her knees to keep from hyperventilating. Casey should be here any minute…

And she blacks out.

When she becomes aware of what is going on, someone is saying her name.

"Sarah Walker?" A doctor is standing over her, holding a clipboard. She sits up straight.

"Yes?"

"_Agent_ Sarah Walker?"

"That's me."

The doctor sighs. "I'm sorry to inform you that your asset was pronounced DOA. We did everything we could to revive him, but the damage was too extensive. Colonel Casey is already in the morgue, where you'll be debriefed. Would you like me to show you the way?"

But Sarah hardly hears the man. She is being sucked into a black hole, swirled in a vortex of colors, all of them running together into a single black mass. There are no words. There is only numbness, traces of professionalism that are rapidly disappearing.

And suddenly, there is Ellie.

She spots Sarah and starts to jog toward her, but stops twenty feet away, her mouth falling open. Only then does Sarah realize that every inch of her—her shirt, her hands, even her hair—is covered in Chuck's blood.

________________________________________________________________________

Agent Walker never comes to the morgue, and eventually General Beckman—having arrived moments before—sends Casey away to deal with the aftermath. Casey is handling himself with composure, but she can see how pale he turns when he sees Chuck's body, half covered in a sheet, laid out of an open metal table. She dismisses him quickly, feigning anger with éclat. When he ducks out, General Beckman sighs, turns, and stares into Chuck's pale, still face, still streaked with blood.

"That's why we did what we did, Mr. Bartowski," she says. "Five months ago, Casey would have done it himself and never said a word. You softened one of my best agents."

Chuck does not reply.

"Well, Mr. Bartowski, I apologize for the pain, but the only way for this to succeed is for everyone—including your handlers—to think that you're dead. It's…easier this way, believe me. Although I don't envy you when that injection wears off." She sighs. "I'm sorry, Bartowski," she says. "But it's for the greater good."

She pulls the sheet over his head, and exits the morgue without a backward glance, out into the hall where the extraction team is ready to take Chuck away.


	5. Chapter 4

4.

Sarah is in the kitchen when she hears Chuck creak out of the bedroom, hears the shuffle of feet across the laminate flooring. She drops the dish she's holding into the sink and dries her hands quickly, rounding the corner into the living room just as Chuck lowers himself into his favorite spot on the couch, worn and sunken to fit his shape from many years of use. He stares at the television for a moment but does not turn it on, instead taking the moment to settle into the soft leather.

"Chuck? What are you doing out of bed?"

Chuck turns around and smiles at her, and there is a light in his eyes that she has not seen in months. It is her favorite smile, too, the lopsided grin that somehow manages to cover his entire face, and for a moment she sees the Chuck she met when they were young, when he was working a dead-end job and was still unable to get over the many defeats he had suffered, and yet had still managed to be charming and adorable. Through the wrinkles and the thinning grey curls (miraculously intact, despite the recent abuse his body had suffered), Sarah sees both of the Chucks she loved: the one she had fallen for and the one she was staying for.

Chuck pats the couch next to him.

"Would you please pull up the blinds?" he asks. "I'd like to watch the sunset with you."

Sarah complies, her movements deliberately slow. Chuck has not been this lucid in weeks, and she wonders if this sudden…_youthfulness_ is a new symptom, some warning sign that she has yet to comprehend. She has lost the agility of her CIA days, but she remains vigilant when it comes to Chuck's well-being; she is the only one left now, and he is the only one left for her.

"Are you feeling all right?" she asks as she approaches him. "Is it a good day or a bad day?"

Chuck continues to grin, indicating that she should sit down. Through the windows that span the length of the west wall, they can see the sun beginning to set, a dazzling spectacle of chaos arranged into every hue of red and orange, but Chuck's eyes are on her. She lowers herself onto the couch and lowers herself into the comfortable contours of his side. He reaches up, with no difficulty at all, and wraps his arm around her shoulder.

"What is it, Chuck?" she presses. "How's your pain?"

"Gone."

She sits straighter, looks him in the eye—in eyes that are clear and bright, more than she has seen them since the diagnosis—no, since before that, even.

"What do you mean, gone?"

"I mean it's gone," he says, still smiling at her. "No more. Caput."

"Does that mean—?"

"I think it means," Chuck interrupts, "that it's just about time."

Sarah's stomach clenches, but something in the serene way he says it not only convinces her not to panic, but that Chuck is correct. She has only seen that look on his face when he is certain about something (and she has seen it often), and he is not wrong much. And the way he says it—not with fear, nor a desire for pity—a simple statement of fact unhindered by human inhibitions. Sarah reaches for his hand, warm and soft, and clutches it.

"Are you comfortable?" she asks.

"I've never been more comfortable in my whole life."

"Do you want me—?"

"I don't want you to do anything but sit here with me, Sarah Walker," he says, "looking as beautiful as the day I met you."

He holds her tighter, and for a while they are silent. There is not much to be said that hasn't already been shared between them. The sun sinks.

"Sarah?"

"Yes?"

"We had a good run, didn't we?"

She smiles. "Well, considering the average life expectancy of a CIA agent is about forty years, I'd say we've had a very good run."

Chuck laughs. "Yes, I know," he says, "but I mean…didn't we?"

Sarah reaches up to stroke his face.

"Yes Chuck," she whispers. "We had the best run there was."

A few minutes later, he closes his eyes. She curls in closer to him, still holding his hand, and lays her head on his chest, trying to memorize his scent one last time, listening to his heart slow in time with his breathing, waiting until his grip on her hand slackens. When he is gone she waits for what feels like hours before lifting her head.

Outside, there is a single ray of light on the horizon, bursting into the clouds like God himself is descending.


End file.
